


OH

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Ficlet, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balin walks in on Bilbo’s adventurous spirit gone two elves too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	OH

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Double-penetration. Bonus points for one of the company accidentally walking in on them” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20395519#t20395519).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s strange to be indoors again with walls between. Balin spent most of his life in a tall home carved out of the mountain, but of late he’s been on the road so long that Rivendell is an oddity. He understand why many of his friends have chosen to camp together, but Bilbo sleeps alone, and so when Thorin sends for him, it’s to a separate room that Balin goes. He’s one of the few that can seem to navigate the foreign halls, and he isn’t too rude to ask the elves’ advice—indeed, he even recognizes some of them. He finds Bilbo’s room soon enough, and he opens the door right away to step inside, the burglar’s name on his lips.

He barely makes it past the first syllable. Bilbo’s indeed inside, but not alone, like Balin expected him. He’s sandwiched tight between two elves—Elrond’s twin sons, if Balin’s not mistaken. Without the door between them to block the noise, Bilbo’s cries hit Balin’s ears like a racing horse, loud and ragged. Bilbo isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, though both lords are dressed, their robes neatly parted around their laps and their hips working in tandem to pound inside Bilbo’s little body. The fat of his round ass jiggles on each thrust, stomach flattened tight against sleek fabric, honey curls slicked with sweat around his ears. The elves Balin gapes at less, and he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart if the one at Bilbo’s front didn’t purr, “Elrohir,” to the one at Bilbo’s back. They both glance at him, but do little more than nod their acknowledgement. The one in the front, who must be Elladan, slips both his long hands along Bilbo’s face, cupping and tilting it up. Bilbo’s eyes are closed, mouth open from his constant slew of screams. His cheeks are flushed bright pink, like the tongue that slips into his mouth. Elladan kisses him, having to bend to do it, hard and breathless—Balin can hear Bilbo’s muffled whines. Elrohir’s arms wrap elegantly around Bilbo’s middle, pulling him in tight.

Balin’s frozen to the spot, light-headed and unsure of what he came for. Elladan seems to plunder Bilbo’s mouth until Bilbo’s whimpers are begging to be free, and then he pulls away, leaving a thin trail of saliva stretched between them. Bilbo’s debauched enough. He’s bounced a little up and down on their cocks, but mostly he’s trapped in place, plush flesh squished around their hard muscles. Balin doesn’t have to see the meat of their shafts to know what’s happening. He can hear every stab in Bilbo’s voice, see it all on Bilbo’s wrecked face. Bilbo’s skin looks blushed to boiling. His stout fingers clutch weakly to Elladan’s chest, and Elrohir bends to spread his mouth along Bilbo’s shoulder, digging in a hard kiss, maybe a bite, maybe a suck. Bilbo gasps, head lolling back onto Elrohir’s shoulder, and his eyes finally part open. 

It still takes him a minute to spot Balin, who couldn’t move if he wanted to. The elves pay no notice, Elrohir nuzzling into Bilbo’s shoulder and Elladan nipping at his cheek. They kiss him and grind into him and _fuck_ him in beautiful, fluid movements, with searching hands always kneading chunks of ripe flesh, Bilbo trying to press into it all. He mewls, keens, then sees Balin and rasps short, voice dying out. He _stares_ at the doorway but can’t seem to lift his eyelids, peers through hazy things. He stills holds Elladan, still rides them both, still arches back into Elrohir. Elrohir’s fingers slip to one nipple, pinching it, rolling the pink-brown pebble for Balin’s roving gaze, and Elladan dips to lick the other. His tongue is long and quick, slithering in a slow circle around the hardened bud before sucking it inside a no doubt talented mouth. Balin isn’t sure if he’s aroused or shocked or horrified. 

Bilbo moans, “B-Bal... in...” then breaks off in a reedy gasp; the elves are still fucking him. Hearing his name on Bilbo’s tongue isn’t something Balin needed. He feels like he needs to say something, but can’t remember what it is. Bilbo looks lovelier than any concubine Erebor ever had. But it’s _Bilbo_ , his friend. The elves are beautiful in their strange, exotic way, but they’re too tall and thin and Bilbo’s the one with a heaving breast that Balin could thrust his cock between. Bilbo’s the one with rosy, spit-slicked lips and a hole that can take two men at once. Bilbo looks like he might say more, or at least try, but then his hair is tugged and he’s pulled back for Elrohir to kiss him upside down.

Balin says something. He doesn’t know what. It comes out in a weird rush that might be something like _Thorinneedsyou_ or might be something completely different. One of the elves stiffens, maybe at Thorin’s name, but then they’re going again, rolling into Bilbo with idle hands but greedy cocks. Bilbo’s eyes flash: a sliver of comprehension. He always perks up at the mention of Thorin. But here, he’s so overwrought that it’s a wonder he can decipher words at all. 

He tells Bilbo, stretched around a fucked-dry groan, “I... I’ll come as... as soon as... I—” And he stops to _scream_.

The elves kiss him all the harder, winding around him, licking and sucking and pinching and squeezing, while Bilbo shrieks and shrieks, his stout, pink cock bursting against Elladan’s robes. He’s still fucked, still used, ridden hard, until his voice dies and he’s swaying, and it looks like he’ll faint or already has. Only then do the elves stop, their hips stilling. 

They pick him up at once. Four tender hands enclose around his hips, lifting him gently up, and Balin gets a look at all the oil dribbling out of him and two long, curved Elven cocks, still quite aroused. Bilbo mumbles dazedly around their touches, “But you...”

“We will take care of ourselves,” Elrohir promises, and at once, both elves bend towards him, placing twin kisses atop his head. They tuck themselves in remarkably gracefully, and then they’re slipping off the bed, leaving Bilbo to sway, spent and naked, on the brink of consciousness. 

Looking perfectly pristine, both elves slip past Balin. They don’t give another word. Balin half feels like he should hurry after them, and half as though he should rush to Bilbo’s aid. Bilbo murmurs faintly, “Tell Thorin... ah...” But he pauses to fall forward, bouncing once on the thick mattress. Then he lies still, facing down with his plump rear in the air, glistening wet. Through the sheets, Bilbo asks, “Can Thorin wait?”

Thorin can never wait. But Balin splutters, “Yes,” all the same. He turns, meaning to walk away, but somehow he walks right into the door and stumbles back, dizzy. Then it’s a beeline down the hall, the door still wide open, for who-knows-else to wander through, and maybe Balin to run back to later if he can sort his head out well enough to walk.


End file.
